Love and be loved by my parents | #33

How to grow close to some of the most important people in our world

It’s been a busy two weeks, I can’t believe it is already April! My parents are currently on a year-long globe trot which began in London back in December 2023. They were in the US over the past two months and were back here for a week before jetting off to Asia.

This newsletter is my deepening into what really matters, enjoy! x

Turns out I was shielding myself from parental love

My default mode has always been of pushing my parents away, not wanting to accept their help and wanting to be my own person. In this last visit, I found embodied wisdom surfacing in interesting ways. I realised that whenever I was judging my mum for always wanting to clean our place or to cook for all of us restlessly or for not being able to sit still, judgement was a way for me to put an arms-length distance between the love she wanted to give me and the readiness I had to accept it.

My friend

Toby Jolly

wrote a great piece about framing stories we tell ourselves, and I was able to use that frame to think about my relationship with my dad and the advice he gives me. I saw that I was quick to steel against his views and with this frame often feeling disappointed that he couldn’t see things from my perspective. I realised that in an alternate and equally valid frame, he was just worried for me and wanted to share his perspective of what he would do. He had no bad intentions, he didn’t want to control my life. He just wanted what was, in his view of the world, best for me! Framing it made me realise that he was speaking from fear of bad things happening to a creature he created, one that he loved so much it was painful.

All this work made me finally understand why in previous years when they visited, I’d feel irritation and impatience with them being around. It seems so obvious now that it was a subconscious mechanism in my body blocking myself from truly relating to them, loving them and letting them love me back. When I finally saw myself able to let my guard down, let mum do the work of a mother, which is to provide love and care however she knows best, I was able to connect deeper with her. On one of the nights, I even asked her to sleep in my room so we could hold each other and be together like mother and child.

‘A little bit every day over time. Imperfectly.’

We had a very lovely time on their last day here. I brought them to the steaming open day at the Crossness Pumping Station. It is actually an unused pumping station for sewage and this one is one of London’s best kept secrets with gorgeous Victorian iron rails painted in beautiful colours.

We learnt a lot about one of London’s biggest problems — sewage. It was an educational and eye-opening visit. Afterwards we meandered into nearby towns, into their fish markets and fresh fruit and veg stores. It was a simple and pleasant day but it felt beautiful.

A writer I admire,

Sara Campbell

, recently wrote this in her newsletter

For so long I labored under the illusion that everything significant that I admired about other people — their accomplishments, their relationships, their careers, their creative works — was the result of some grand maneuver. In actuality it’s a little bit every day over time. Imperfectly.  

I love this quote so much, it speaks to such truth about the world and our individual as well as shared experience. Often we feel like updates or milestones have to be these grand gestures when in reality, it is the little bit we do each day. It is in the little way we show up in every moment, especially the ones we think do not count.

On that day with my mum and dad walking around the pumping station and through the nearby towns, I felt this sense of calm. This deep gratitude for our time together without any grand gesture. It made me realise that this exact moment of ‘absolutely nothingness’ was the true meaning of it all.

We didn’t need to have balloons and fireworks, crazy outfits and techno music. We didn’t need to be bopping crazily with adrenaline rushing through us. We could be walking a few metres apart through a quiet neighbourhood, with somewhat blue skies, just being grateful for our able bodies and grateful for the other people with us.

I knew then that I’d do whatever I could to see them as much as I can in the years to come because they are not getting any younger. Well, frankly neither am I!